


Who You Are

by koalathebear



Category: Bones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-02
Updated: 2012-01-02
Packaged: 2017-10-28 17:12:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/310158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koalathebear/pseuds/koalathebear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set somewhere during season 2 because I'm so intrigued with names and identity.  Brennan, the woman who spends all her time helping to discover the identities of the Unidentified doesn't know who she herself is - but Booth does.  <i>Guh.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Who You Are

"Ssshh, it's all right, Bones … it's going to be all right." She was crumpled against him limply, all the fight drained from her. It frightened him.

"Russ … my father …. gone – and I barely knew them," she whispered, staring at the bodies on the ground even as she grew weaker from the blood pouring from her wound.

"Stay with me Bones, stay with me …" Booth told her as he bound her wound. His voice shook uncontrollably even though his hands were steady. "Someone get me a fucking doctor, _now!_ " He shouted over his shoulder, his hands sticky with Brennan's blood.

***

 _"Don't_ touch!" Brennan said sharply as Booth would have reached out a hand to touch the preserved remains lying on the table.

"Come on, he survived bad Irish cuisine and being buried in an Irish bog for all this time," Booth teased her.

Brennan lifted an eyebrow and Booth pretended to look offended. Grinning slightly, he began to quote.

" _Some day I will go to Aarhus  
To see his peat-brown head,  
The mild pods of his eye-lids,  
His pointed skin cap._"

Brennan tilted her head to one side. "I'm impressed. Seamus Heaney, although for the record, Tollund Man was found …."

"On the Jutland Peninsula in Denmark," Booth finished for her. "And this guy was found in Ireland. I know that," he told her.

"This man was found when a bog was being searched for a murder weapon."

"There are hundreds of these bog bodies – why are you looking at this one?" Booth asked her curiously. "He's looking a bit more fleshy than your usual type of friend," he commented.

Zach turned and interpolated before Brennan could speak. "You're right. Bog bodies usually retain skin and internal organs due to the unusual conditions of preservation. Skeletal preservation is usually very rare in these bodies because the acid in the peat dissolves the calcium carbonate of bone."

"I'm assuming that this guy has his bones intact?" Booth asked, staring down at the dark and leathery flesh of the body lying on the table.

Brennan nodded. "Yes. Bog bodies vary in their state of preservation. Some are isolated heads and limbs, sometimes we get a preserved body and no skeleton."

"How did this one die? They were usually executions and sacrifices, right?" Booth asked.

Zach interrupted again. "He was stabbed, bludgeoned and strangled. He still has a rope around his neck. Angela's reconstructing what he looked like. Judging by his teeth, he was a young male in his late teens. His fingernails are manicured and tests on hair protein show good nutrition."

Brennan looked up from where she was studying the x-rays and stared at Booth, suddenly remembering something. "By the way, that was good work yesterday," she complimented him. Booth was aware of a ridiculous glow of warm satisfaction at her words and the expression in her eyes.

"Couldn’t have done it without you," he told her. "Dynamic duo."

"What's this? A mutual admiration society?" Hodgins asked as he jogged up the stairs lightly, pausing only to swipe his security pass. "Can I join?"

"No," Brennan and Booth said automatically.

Hodgins shrugged. "I'm still analysing the peat in which the body was found – good news, the peat also preserved grass, leaves and some insects along with the body. We should be able to get a lot of information about Bog Dude in no time."

Booth lifted an eyebrow and Hodgins grinned. "What? Check out that facial hair – the guy was clearly a cool dude of his time – plus he had a kicker of a last meal before he died."

Brennan smiled. "I'm done here for now, you can take over, Jack," she told him and peeled off her gloves and walked with Booth back to her office.

She ran through her findings on one of their cases and Booth gave the appearance of listening but eventually interrupted Brennan in the middle of her puzzlement at the greenstick fracture found on the murder victim.

"Thought about what we talked about last night?" he asked her abruptly.

Brennan stopped mid-sentence and her eyes widened. Booth smiled ruefully and walked up to stand beside her at her desk. He kissed her briefly and her lips clung to his. "Despite your very heroic attempts to distract me, don’t think I forgot," he teased her. "I admit you wore me out - but not to the point of forgetting my original question." He smiled slowly as she flushed hotly.

His fingers strayed down her arm absently, lingering protectively on the small of her back. A deep knife wound. A punctured lung. A year later, her injuries had healed but the scar would remain with her forever. Brennan being Brennan appeared completely unconcerned by the the scar but when they lay in bed, Booth would kiss the scar and give thanks to God that Brennan's life had been spared.

Brennan was always very bemused by his preoccupation with her scar. "Your body has considerably more scar tissue than mine," she had once pointed out and had then proceeded to list every single scar on his body as well as the cause of each injury with typical accuracy.

"I know you didn't forget," she said finally.

He lowered his head and kissed her again. He brushed her cheek with his lips. "So what's it to be? Are you going to make me suffer forever?" He asked her. "Angela would make a wonderful bridesmaid. I'm going to want a church wedding and you're not Catholic but I'm sure we can work something out … "

"Booth."

He stopped talking.

"The answer is no," she told him softly.

He remained very still. "I know it's not because you don't love me," he said finally.

It wasn't arrogance. He knew that she loved him. Everything she said and did gave that away, every glance and smile. They had risked their lives for one another too often not to know.

Brennan took his hand and held it against her cheek for a brief moment before standing and walking away from him.

"Booth, be sensible. You have a promising career in the FBI. Based on the available evidence, my father was a serial killer … he died too soon for us to know anything more than that. I don't know who I am and never will. I'm not the wife for you – we both know that."

"Full of crap as ever," Booth said fondly, reaching out and drawing her against him. Before she could protest, he had tilted her chin up so that she had to look into his eyes.

"Booth, be serious."

"I've told you before. I know who you are. I know exactly who you are, Bones."

***

"Tempe."

"Michael." Temperance's voice was cool and polite.

"It's been a while."

"Yes."

"Quite a show," he said indicating the turnout for the party in honour of the new Jeffersonian's new Emperor Qin Shi Huang exhibit. Beyond the cordoned off area, a row of terracotta figures could be seen and beyond that, artefacts from the emperor's tomb in Xian that the Chinese government had finally permitted to be excavated with the assistance of the Jeffersonian. It was only due to the highly sophisticated preservation techniques developed by the institute that they had been able to assure that the artefacts were not destroyed during the excavation process. Non-intrusive scanning technology had also helped to identify the location and type of booby traps that had been created and placed in the tomb by ancient hands to defend the emperor.

"I heard about your father and your brother," Michael told her. Temperance said nothing but merely continued to study the bright splash of colour created by the huge embroidered yellow silk tapestry that hung against one wall. "I was sorry for your loss."

"Thank you."

"You never returned my calls. Still know how to hold a grudge, Tempe," Michael observed, a slight edge in his very polite voice.

"And clearly you can't take a hint," Booth's voice interrupted and both of them glanced around. Dislike flickered across Michael's face, relief and warmth across Temperance's.

"We might have to rescue Zach – Angela's challenged him to drinking games with the rice wine," he said with a grin. "Hodgins is already unconscious."

"I was curious about how it must have felt – the great Dr Temperance Brennan suddenly not knowing who or for that matter, what she was," Michael said bluntly. "Creating such a reputation on the basis of a person who doesn't really exist."

Temperance felt Booth stiffen beside her. Before he could say or do anything, she spoke calmly.

"We haven't been introduced, I'm Dr Temperance Booth and I'm a forensic anthropologist at the Jeffersonian."

"The best in her field," Booth added with a wicked grin. "Present company included."

"Mrs Seeley Booth to some," Temperance told Michael who stared at her but said nothing.

"Bones to others," Booth continued. He smiled at Michael and said in a very pleasant voice. "And Dr. Stires - if I ever hear you disrespecting my wife again, it's going to be you who finds it necessary to change your name."

"Booth…" Temperance murmured reprovingly.

"Call off your Cerberus. Goodbye, Tempe," Michael said briefly and walked away.

"I am not a three-headed dog!" Booth called out after Stires. _"What?"_ Booth demanded when Temperance gave him a long and speaking look.

"I think you know exactly what I'm thinking."

"And you know that I don't care if you don't approve of my actions," Booth told her, slipping his arm around her narrow waist and pulling her against his body.

Temperance kissed him lingeringly despite the fact that they were in a crowded room. Angela would have approved of the open display of affection had she not been busy drinking poor Zach under the table.

"I was always happy you agreed to take my surname," Booth murmured, stroking his wife's cheek.

"Would you have taken mine?"

"Mr and Mrs Bones has an odd ring to it," Booth mused and they laughed.

"You are never going to stop calling me by that damned name," she commented.

"Would you want me to?" he asked her, a tender expression in his dark eyes.

Temperance shook her head and smiled at her husband.

"Come on Bones, hangover central awaits."


End file.
